


Routine

by ToxicPineapple



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Bars, Listen this is going to be more fleshed out later but i'm just like, M/M, Misogynistic undertones, Mondo is trying his best, No Hope's Peak AU - Freeform, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Taka works an office job, Trans Fujisaki Chihiro, and fluffy times, as she should be head ass, at times - Freeform, but y'know, it's mondo, maybe smut later, mentions of alcohol use, posting it now so james can read it as i write it, she's mtf, there will be angst, they're all adults, you can't honestly be surprised
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:07:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22289152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: Every day is better if he faces it with a smile, he’s found, rather then a tense jaw and a couple clenched fists at his sides. It reduces back pain, but smiling helps him find more reasons to smile. His therapist told him that. Fake it ‘till you make it, and all. Maybe it’s just the fact that he actually has a routine. A lot of people are bored, upset even by things that remain the same day after day, but Taka has never found that to be his experience. He likes it when things are predictable. Simple. He gives every day his all, and keeps at it week after week, month after month, and it pays off, in the end. A little bit of deviation from the norm is nice, and he looks forward to it, but… having something to call “normal”, that’s his favourite.---Taka is happy with the consistency of his every-day life. He's finally reached a point where he can be satisfied with the way that things are for him, and he's beyond grateful for it.Mondo isn't, and he hasn't, but he finally has a chance to pull his own weight rather than relying on his best friend all the time, and that's what he intends to do.
Relationships: Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 22
Kudos: 54





	1. Taka

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleepingguard01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingguard01/gifts).



> this is a birthday fic for my best friend in the world!!! james!!!!!!! mans!!! he's sixteen now wow what an absolute MOTHERFUCKER anyway ajdshfj there will be More in the future i'll try to write chapter two and post it tonight so we can at least see fuckindgfkjsdhf MONDO but yeah this is what there is for now

If Taka manages his time efficiently in the mornings, then he has about fifteen minutes to stop by a cafe on his way to the office. He likes stopping there because it’s quiet; the smaller establishments are always the quieter ones, especially before eight in the morning, and there’s something cozy about coffee shops that don’t belong to some huge chain, no matter what the place is, or who’s running it. Taka favours that one in particular because it’s on his way, and parking is always easy. He can just roll his honda right in front of the building and be out twenty minutes later with a black coffee in hand and the buzz of friendly, early-morning chit-chat not quite worn off yet.

The biggest reason he likes it, though, is that most days of the week (save for Thursdays, because Makoto goes into work early on Thursdays) his best-- and only?-- friend from high school, Makoto, can be found at the table near the door, typing away at his laptop. Taka is half convinced that Makoto only goes to the cafe so often because he’s friends with the barista who works morning shifts, a friendly, pretty girl named Sayaka who Taka vaguely remembers Makoto remarking went to the same middle school as him, because unlike the office where he works, the elementary school that Makoto is teaching at currently is a good mile out of his way.

(Plus, there’s a Starbucks right there, and as far as Taka knows, Makoto  _ doesn’t  _ have the same affinity for small businesses as he has. Then again, they’ve never spoken about it. But Taka is pretty sure that it’s Sayaka.)

This morning, when Taka exits his car and walks towards the building, he only has ten minutes to hang around, due in part to the fact that his alarm didn’t go off this morning, but also just because traffic was kind of bad getting to the highway from his apartment. He’s got his body trained to wake up at around the time when his alarm is supposed to go off anyway, so it’s not a huge concern, but he is a little bit (just a pinch) worried about the fact that his phone is well and truly dead.

A tiny brass bell chimes when Taka opens the door; a new addition. He smiles up at it, because he likes small changes, and glances around quickly to see if Makoto is sitting in his usual spot. He’s not hard to see. Makoto is short, but his hair is chestnut coloured, and it sticks out like crazy in a sea of Japanese people. Taka’s own is dark, and could even pass for black back in high school, but it’s brightened up a bit with age and is now more of a darker brown colour. Like really expensive chocolate. Taka prefers dark chocolate anyway (Makoto’s hair, if ascribed a type of chocolate, would be way too sweet) but it’s probably not the first thing that comes to mind when people look at his hair.

He waves at his friend, who is too engrossed in his task to return the gesture, and walks up to the counter, waiting patiently for Sayaka to finish filling another order.

She beams at him, tossing her blue hair-- tied in a ponytail today, Taka notices-- over her shoulder and glancing back and forth between his eyes and the cup in her hand. “Good morning!” She greets, ever the cheerful presence so early in the day. Taka can’t help smiling back. It’s not hard to coax a smile out of him, because he doesn’t see much of a point in refraining, but Sayaka makes it twice as easy. She’s a nice person to talk to. Makoto insists that his feelings for her are purely platonic, but Taka wouldn’t blame him if there was more to it than that. “Same as always, Taka?”

“I have to praise your memory,” he replies with a nod, and she shoots him another quick smile, turning around and placing the mug on one of the flat surfaces behind the counter. “You must have quite a lot of regulars with the location of this cafe! How do you keep all of our orders straight?”

“A lot of repetition, really,” Sayaka says, a tad breathlessly, and dries her hands off on her apron. She slides the mug across the counter to a man with electric pink hair tucked under a black beanie. The guy grins at her as he takes it. Taka watches him make his way across the cafe. “It’s not difficult to remember what everybody orders when they’ve ordered it enough times, and in a way you can kind of judge a person’s personality by the things that they like.” She selects a disposable cup from a stack behind the counter, pressing a button on one of her many machines to start brewing a new batch of coffee. “You, for example, are a very black-coffee kind of guy, Kiyotaka.”

Taka decides, after a moment of contemplation, not to ask what she means by that. He slides a five dollar bill across the counter, and after he’s sure that she’s seen it, turns and walks over to the table that Makoto is seated at. He always takes the small ones, the square tables with two chairs directly across from each other, and this time is no exception. There’s a tiny little crease in between his eyebrows, and Makoto is frowning at his screen, but when Taka pulls out the chair across from him, the other man looks up, and his expression relaxes into a smile.

“Morning, Taka,” he chuckles, despite the fact that neither of them has said anything funny, and closes his laptop just a tad. “You’re here a little later than usual.”

“You must be an excellent teacher,” Taka remarks. “If you have my schedule committed to memory to the point where you notice it when I’m a bit late.” It makes Makoto laugh, and then the tension leaves his shoulders, and Taka cracks a smile. Being a teacher has been Makoto’s ambition for as long as he can remember-- since they were  _ first years.  _ But he knows that it’s stressful in the way that working with children is expected to be. Especially primary school students, who are so young, and who you only know about thirty of each year, a small enough group and a large enough amount of time to get extremely close to all of them. Makoto has a big heart and he cares too much. He’s bound to be stretched tightly. “But yes, traffic was terrible.” He makes a face. “I’m not looking forward to the drive home.”

“You took the highway?” Frowns Makoto. He lifts his coffee-- white chocolate mocha, if Taka recalls correctly, and it’s not bad but it’s far too sweet for his tastes-- and takes a sip before he continues. “Wasn’t there some kind of accident?”

“Was there?” Taka asks, frowning too. He doesn’t listen to the news in the morning, though he probably could if he wanted too. It’s just too stressful to be hearing about all the problems in the world on his way to work. He drives a gas vehicle, and that’s terrible on its own, but there’s always one more problem than he’s equipped to hear about. He can’t even remember them all at any one time. “That must have been why everything was so congested-- oh, thank you, Sayaka.”

“Sure, sure.” Sayaka places the coffee down in front of him, smiling. “Don’t be late to work. Wouldn’t want your boss getting on you for tardiness.”

Taka laughs. “Kuzuryuu knows the kind of person I am, I doubt he would give me a hard time. But I won’t be late, Sayaka, thank you.”

“Awh, see,” Makoto rests an elbow on the table, giving Taka a lopsided smile. “That might be the case for you, since you do overtime every day of the week, but for  _ me,  _ if I’m late, the school has to provide a substitute for thirty unruly eight and nine year olds until I show up. I kind of envy you.”

“I think the expectations in an office job are much different from those of a teacher.” Taka replies evenly, removing the lid from his coffee cup to blow on it before taking a sip. The bitterness spreads across his tongue and he sighs. He could make coffee at home, but Sayaka knows how to brew it much better than he does. (And his coffee maker has been broken for ages. He could get a new one, but he hardly has the time or the expenses to spare doing so.) It’s pleasantly hot and he can already feel the caffeine starting to kick in. Though, so quickly after he drank it, it’s probably just placebo, but he’s not in the position to complain. “Still, being on time is important! I should be leaving in,” he glances at his watch. “Three minutes if I want to arrive in a timely manner.”

“You’re on top of things as always.” Makoto comments lightly. “You don’t seem all that stressed today despite running behind schedule, Taka, is there any particular reason for it?”

The reason Makoto is asking is probably due in part to how high-strung he was back in high school. He didn’t understand anything about making friends, or socialising, or any of that stuff. (He still doesn’t, in all honesty, but he’s better at faking it now that he’s through with college and well into his twenties.) Back then being any less than fifteen minutes early was considered absolute tardiness, in his mind, and it was completely unacceptable. Nowadays he’s cut that down to five, but that’s mostly just to show respect to his employer, and also to give himself a little bit of leeway if he’s ever running particularly late. Therapy and age have helped him to calm down, for sure.

But today specifically? Taka doesn’t exactly have a reason for being in high spirits. Every day is better if he faces it with a smile, he’s found, rather then a tense jaw and a couple clenched fists at his sides. It reduces back pain, but smiling helps him find more reasons to smile. His therapist told him that. Fake it ‘till you make it, and all. Maybe it’s just the fact that he actually has a routine. A lot of people are bored, upset even by things that remain the same day after day, but Taka has never found that to be his experience. He likes it when things are predictable. Simple. He gives every day his all, and keeps at it week after week, month after month, and it pays off, in the end. A little bit of deviation from the norm is nice, and he looks forward to it, but… having something to call “normal”, that’s his favourite.

“I think today is going to be good, is all.” Taka says simply, smiling, and Makoto gives him a vaguely searching look before smiling back.


	2. Mondo

Mondo’s been awake for all of two hours and today is already shaping up to be an absolute shit-show of a day. He’s half tempted to turn his bike around, head back to the apartment, get hammered way too early in the day, and then pass the fuck out before noon.

But, well, he kind of has to get to work, because it’s his first day at work at the first real job he’s landed since being fired from the restaurant near his place, and even if it’s a total slum of a bar, ‘tending pays extremely well. And it’s nowhere near what he wanted to be back in like, high school, but then again. No part of the person who he is now is who he wanted to be back in high school. (All of that kind of went out the window, anyway, when he dropped out.) To be honest, he’s incredibly lucky that he even  _ has  _ a job to begin with, after everything that’s been happening in his life as of late, and he’s gotta keep it because he’s been mooching off his friend Chihiro for far, far too long, and that’s just extremely shitty.

Not to mention that Chihiro’s been functioning as his alarm clock for what’s felt like ages. She gets up an hour before he does every day, which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense because she works from home, and after taking a shower she shakes him awake. By the time Mondo is actually up, she’s halfway out the door of the room, shooting him a teasing smile and disappearing into the kitchen. After he’s showered and dressed and shaved and all that mess, he usually finds her in the kitchen, either making coffee-- which she doesn’t drink-- or breakfast, and, well-- shit, he just owes her a lot, which is why he has to keep the job.

Mondo tries not to get too irritated when he has to exit the highway. Some stupid car accident just a quarter of a mile down has apparently made everyone lose their minds, even though according to his phone, the damn thing happened over three hours ago. Honestly, who’s even awake before seven? Forget that it’s Monday, that’s an unreasonable hour. The fact that Mondo is up at ten to go work at a  _ bar  _ is unbelievable in its own right. Nobody should be working that early. Even with things like coffee and five-hour-energy chews, it just feels like asking way too much of a guy. Mondo would probably lose his temper if he had to do something that ridiculous.

It doesn’t take a lot for him to lose his temper, though. Mondo sighs, and then scrunches up his face, because there’s no quicker way to fog up his helmet than sighing. As he pulls up to a red light and puts out one of his legs to stop, he flips up the visor. It’s a decently bright day out, but overcast, and Mondo really hopes that it doesn’t rain, because he loves his motorcycle but riding in the rain is unbearable. (He presses the visor closed again with a satisfying little click when the light turns green and kicks off the pavement, zooming across the street.) He forgot to check the forecast this morning. No biggie; he can just look at it when he gets to work, but he’s not sure if he really wants to put that much thought into it.

He’s been to this bar before, once, back when he was romantically involved with a girl who lived in this neighbourhood. (It was more of a fling, really. Most of Mondo’s relationships have been.) He thought it was a lousy establishment. It’s just respectable enough to draw in a good crowd on Friday and Saturday nights, but still seedy as hell. Not that Mondo hasn’t spend his fair share of time in places like it, but he’d rather not be the one behind the counter. As much as a good crowd means good business, in an area like this? Sketchy. Maybe Mondo’s just being pretentious. He must’ve gotten used to living in the neat and tight district with Chihiro, who’s never been out past 8PM in her life.

(Not that Mondo would ever rag on Chihiro, though, because she’s his best friend, and she’s stuck by him through some serious shit. Even so, it’s stupid that Mondo is judging crowds of people who wouldn’t dare fuck with him, because he’s one of them, actually.)

He parks his bike in the alley behind the building like his new manager told him over text this morning. Mondo isn’t sure that he trusts it, but a guy’d have to be crazy to try stealing his motorcycle. It’s not a bad bike, or anything. It’s an excellent bike, and he’d fight anybody who tries to say otherwise. But any time it’s had to be fixed, he’s just done it himself. It’s not all that hard to understand, and he likes working on it himself. Makes it feel personal, somehow. But he’s not an aesthetics kinda guy, so it looks pretty shabby, he has to admit.

Just to be safe, he tucks his bike behind a couple bins and enters the building through the back door. The bar isn’t going to be opening for another hour or so, but his manager asked him to come early so he could learn the ropes, and so here he is. The place feels empty, though, in that haunting, stagnant way that libraries feel when you walk in right as they open. Mondo shrugs off his jacket, thinking that a leather coat isn’t the most professional thing to wear while bartending, and then walks down the hallway to what he identifies as the door to the back room. When he tries the handle, it turns, so he steps inside.

The room is just as seedy as the rest of the establishment. There’s an old, threadbare couch in the far corner of the room, next to a mini-fridge, and a sink off to the side as well. Directly to his right, next to the door, there’s a tall coat rack, and so Mondo drapes his jacket over one of the prongs before turning around again. Off to his left there’s another door, one that likely leads to the actual bar, and then in the corner of the room there’s a door that Mondo guesses leads to the staff bathroom. So the place isn’t cheap enough that they have to use the same bathroom as customers. It’s a small reassurance, but a reassurance nonetheless.

The door which Mondo assumes leads to the bathroom swings open all of a sudden, creaking quietly, and a woman emerges, drying her hands with a small hand towel. She, Mondo recognises, is not his manager, though his manager is also a woman. He doesn’t remember too much about his new manager off the top of his head, but he knows that she has extremely long blue hair, and this woman’s hair is neither extremely long, nor is it blue. Actually, she seems kind of a weird person to be working at a bar like this. Her hair is a vivid red, fiery almost, and with pale, freckled skin and startling green eyes, she seems more like she belongs on a college campus than here.

“Oh, are you Mondo?” She smiles, placing the towel to the side. She seems absolutely undaunted by his appearance, which is… gratifying, because it’s not the usual response that people have to seeing him. Mondo feels himself relaxing a little bit. She has just a touch of a southern accent, not enough to be truly noticeable, but her voice is pleasant. Honey-sweet, even. “I’m Mahiru, we’re going to be working the same shift. Tsumugi told me to help you out today.”

Mondo’s gut reaction is to say something along the lines of  _ I shouldn’t be relying on a woman to teach me my way around,  _ but he smothers it, because he knows that it’s wrong, and a voice in his head that sounds vaguely like Chihiro’s chimes in that that’s a very misogynistic outlook, as a general rule of thumb. He accepts Mahiru’s offer of a handshake and gives a smile of his own. He feels more at ease knowing he won’t be working with someone just as sketchy as the building they’re standing in. “You know my name already, but yeah. Thanks.” He pauses, giving Mahiru what he hopes is a friendly skeptical look. “On a first name basis with the boss already, huh?”   
  


Thankfully, she laughs. “Tsumugi isn’t all that formal, you know.” He doesn’t, actually. He met the woman once in an interview, and the only takeaway that he had is that she seems like a very vague, spacy woman. But he nods along anyway. “You might wanna play it safe and keep calling her Miss Shirogane until she asks you not to, but I don’t think she’s the kind of person to be flattered by that sort of thing.” Mahiru retracts her hand, then places both of them on her hips. “So! Ever worked at a bar before?”

“Uh,” Mondo thinks back to when he should’ve been in his third year of high school, forging documents to make himself out as a full adult and working at an equally seedy joint across town years ago. “Yeah, I have,” he says evenly. It’s not like it’s that big of a tell, and Mahiru doesn’t seem like the judgemental type. (He could be totally wrong, though, so he wants to be careful.) “I could definitely use a refresher, though.”

“Hmm.” Mahiru appraises him for a moment. “You seem pretty straightforward! Guys oughta be, y’know.” Oh, Mondo thinks that goes without saying. Mahiru seems pretty forthcoming herself, which is nice to have in a coworker. The lingering annoyance from the traffic jam this morning begins to ebb. He’s going to do fine in this job, if his other coworkers are anything like she is. “Well, come on then, there’s some setting up to do but most of the cleaning was done last night, so it shouldn’t take an hour. I think there’s plenty of time for me to help you get adjusted.”

Without waiting for him to give any verbal indication that he’s heard, Mahiru turns around, disappearing out through the door that likely leads to the bar. Mondo sucks in a breath through his teeth. He’s here now. His task doesn’t seem too overwhelming. He hates bartending, and mixing drinks-- he’s shit at emotional things and drunk people are twice as bad-- but Mahiru seems remarkably sane, and it’ll be worth it, so he can finally start pulling his own weight enough that Chihiro isn’t taking care of him anymore. He can’t lose this job by being erratic, not like he was last time. Gotta start being a man, and all that.

This isn’t high school. He can’t just drop out if the going gets tough.

Mondo clenches his jaw and follows Mahiru out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch me update the shit out of this and then let it rot and collect dust once i actually figure out what the storyline is lol akjsdhf
> 
> i like writing mahiru, she is fun :)


	3. Taka

Taka’s lunch break is an hour, which is generous, in his opinion, since he could hypothetically finish eating in forty five minutes, but he’s not really in the position to complain. He doesn’t usually go anywhere fancy-- unless he’s invited out by a friend-- because he likes to pack his lunch from home. Nothing fancy, just a sandwich and a couple pieces of fruit. Right now that’s slightly overripe bananas, since he got them about a week ago and they’ve been sitting, forgotten, in his refrigerator ever since, and while he’s chewing a bite of today’s, seated on a park bench on the sidewalk outside the office (because it’s not raining  _ yet  _ and he likes to eat outside when he can) a couple of his coworkers approach him.

  


“Hey, Kiyotaka,” Aoi is one of them, Asahina is her surname, Taka thinks, but he doesn’t like to call people by their surnames if he can help it. There’s something alienating about it. He’s heard people around the office calling her “Hina”, but just like with his own nickname, he’s not going to use it until Aoi gives him explicit permission. Besides, they’re not all that close. He shifts over to make room for her on the bench, anyway, and she beams, taking her seat. Toko, another one of their coworkers, sits as well, but the look she gives him is edgy, and borderline hostile.

  


Toko works as a secretary, and the hostility isn’t necessarily something that Taka is alien to, but he still feels a bit of strain in his smile when he waves at her. She huffs out an irritated breath and looks away, and he takes that as a good enough acknowledgement of his presence before turning back to Aoi. “Hello, Aoi,” he greets in kind, and she shoots him another smile, this one calmer, more regular, before taking out her own lunch. She always has bento, which is somewhat elementary, but Taka thinks that her wife puts it together for her. It’s sweet. Today her rice is in the shape of a little polar bear. “Isn’t your lunch hour a bit after mine?” They work in the same position, so they usually don’t break at the same time. It’s the most efficient thing, Taka thinks.

  


“I requested that it be moved so I could keep Toko company!” Aoi chirps in response, shooting the woman in question one of those sunny smiles. Toko rolls her eyes, tugging on her purple hair-- which is, as ever, done in twin braids-- but gives a begrudging smile. Aoi’s friendliness is a force of nature. It’s something that Taka still hasn’t quite grasped yet, the ability to disarm people with so little as a smile or a friendly look. It makes her awfully pleasant to be around. “Do you usually eat alone?”   
  


“I like the quiet,” says Taka lightly, but then he adds, “I don’t mind the company, though,” so that Aoi knows that her presence is welcome. She nods in understanding, using her hand to wipe a stray piece of rice from her cheek. Taka politely averts his gaze. “How was your morning?” He’s not a  _ huge  _ fan of small-talk, but Makoto used to take a lot of time to stress upon him how important it can be with acquaintances, and Makoto has always been a better authority on these subjects than Taka is, so he’s not going to argue. Besides, he does want to know; Aoi seems to be in high spirits, but she’s always like that. It’s possible that the morning was absolutely terrible and she’s just smiling despite it.

  


“Productive.” She replies eventually, tapping her chopsticks against the side of her bento. “I’m working on a project for the boss, and it’s a lot more fun than I thought it’d be. It gives me a chance to use my sticky note collection, y’know?” Her smile is devilish, but it relaxes into something more dry after a moment. “I can’t believe I’m getting excited about sticky notes.”

  


Taka muses, “Well, it’s a perfectly normal thing to be happy about using new office supplies.”

  


Snorting, Aoi swats his shoulder, and it coaxes a smile out of him. (Again, not that that’s particularly difficult to do.) “I know that, but it’s kind of mundane! When I was in high school, I was convinced that I’d be an Olympic swimmer, or something, and now here I am-- my idea of a fun night out is a trip to Office Max with my wife.”

  


“M-Maybe that has more to d-do with your wife than it does with office max,” Toko remarks idly, and Taka tries to refrain from starting, because he’d (admittedly) forgotten she was there.

  


“You’re right, Sakura makes everything fun.” Aoi sighs, somewhat dreamily, and then shakes her head. “Still, though! Isn’t it weird how you think you’re going to go somewhere in high school and then you end up somewhere completely ordinary? I’m totally materialistic now. If I met my sixteen year old self and told her this is what I end up becoming, I’d probably have had a fit.”

  


“I don’t think there’s anything weird about it.” Taka says quietly. Sure, back when he was in high school, he didn’t exactly envision himself working an  _ office  _ job, but he also didn’t really have any strong aspirations. He had a very vague goal of being honest and hardworking, but above all else  _ respected.  _ If anything, nowadays, Taka is a much more fun person than he ever pictured himself being. Sometimes he joins Makoto and a couple other friends when they go out to do karaoke. (Though not frequently enough for it to be considered a real pastime of his; Taka still likes to be at home before eight so that he can get work done around the house, eat a good dinner, and fall asleep at a healthy time.) His life is perfectly ordinary but it’s comfortable, too, and that’s all that he could ever ask for.

  


Aoi huffs. “You’re very easily satisfied, Kiyotaka.” Hearing his full name like that is extremely jarring, but what’s more jarring is being chastised by Aoi Asahina, who has a little bit of plum caught in the loose strands of brown hair that are hanging around her eyes. “I miss college sometimes, y’know? Where I used to go out with my friends and party all night!”

  


“And g-get totally hammered, probably,” Toko remarks with a skeptical eyebrow raise. “I bet you were a r-real party animal.”

  


“I  _ was,”  _ Aoi agrees, perhaps not catching on to the slightly insulting undertone in Toko’s words. Taka, who is surprised that he picked up on it himself, decides not to comment. “Y’know what? Hey. Are you two doing anything tonight?”   
  


The question feels a little bit out of the blue, but Taka considers it. “Well, I was hoping to do a load of laundry and maybe read another chapter of my book… I’m finally getting around to reading  _ The Mysterious Affair At Styles,  _ and I’m surprised I didn’t read it sooner, considering how excellent Agatha Christie is at spinning myster--”

  


“Okay, okay,” Aoi cuts him off. “I get that you’re really boring, Kiyotaka.”

  


“I’m not boring,” Taka protests mildly, frowning. “The Poirot series is a perfectly--”

  


“No, not your taste in books,” Aoi rolls her eyes. “I mean your evening plans! You can do that another night, right? Listen, why don’t we go to a bar? You too, Toko, if you’re free.”

  


Toko gives Aoi a moderately offended look. “Y-You don’t really want me there, you’re just inviting me so you d-don’t feel bad. I don’t need to tag along and watch you guys get d-drunk and h-hook up, or something--”

  


“I’m a  _ lesbian,”  _ Aoi says, sounding absolutely scandalised. “A  _ married  _ lesbian-- jeez, Toko!” She flushes, which makes Taka smile thinly, because it’s hardly something to get super embarrassed about. The insinuation is extremely inappropriate, and Taka isn’t exactly into women either, and honestly if he was a couple years younger he’d be just as put off as Aoi is right now, but he supposes that Toko is simply the kind of person to jump to those kinds of conclusions.

  


“Why don’t you two have a girls night?” He suggests. “I do need to get my laundry done, and I’m not big on bars-- I’m a bit of a light weight, actually,” he admits sheepishly; something that he and Makoto found out purely by accident, at the one high school party they attended in their life, where they were both peer pressured into drinking spiked juice and ended up regretting it immensely in the morning. “But if you want more excitement in your life, then by all means.” Alcohol consumption isn’t Taka’s idea of a good or exciting time, for sure. It’s just a very uncreative means of shortening his lifespan. Not to mention ruining everything he’s worked so hard to put together the past five years. No thank you.

  


“Aww, c’mon, it’ll be fun!” Aoi insists. “I can buy the first round! We’ll find some weird, out-of-the-way bar none of us have ever been to-- and if you don’t want to drink, you can be the designated driver!”

  


“Aoi,” Taka frowns. “I’d really rather not.” That is going to be that. He’s not going! He’s going to go home and finish the next chapter of the first Poirot novel, and do a load of laundry, and be in bed by ten. Nothing crazy. Nothing out of the ordinary. His evening is going to be completely normal and sane, just like how he likes it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like writing hina she's a lot of fun
> 
> peer pressure happens to the best of us


	4. Mondo

Mondo’s shift goes well into the evening, starting at noon and running until eight o’clock, when someone will, Shirogane (his boss) said, come to relieve him. In the future he’s sure he’ll work overtime, or work later in the evening, because going to a bar at noon feels unreasonable. Clearly he isn’t the only person who thinks this way, because for the first several hours that the bar is open, he and Mahiru are mostly just serving coffee and toast to ratty, disheveled people who may or may not be employed.

Mahiru greets them with a wrinkly nose and a thin smile, which Mondo thinks she’s in the position to wear. Her jacket was hung up on the coat rack in the staff room, and even though she’s working in a lousy joint like this, it didn’t look second-hand. Unlike Mondo’s, which was his brother’s before it was his, and belonged to some second-hand store in their old neighbourhood before it was Daiya’s. He loves the thing to death, but it’s hanging on by a thread. Leather jackets are expensive as hell though, so it’s not like he’s out actively searching for a new one. It keeps him warm, that’s what’s important.

At any rate, he can’t really bring himself to be judgemental towards the homeless guys who throw down crumpled bills and ask for measly cups of black coffee. Back when he dropped out of high school, he was in a similar position, before he got a job, anyway. Being homeless is the worst. Sleeping on something other than a mattress (or even a chair with cushions on it, to be completely honest) is painful, but sleeping on the  _ ground  _ is degrading. On lucky nights Mondo would find some park bench or something to snooze on. A lot of parks and bus stops put spikes or arm rests in the middle of their benches, though, to prevent him from doing as much. (Don’t want their image sullied by people who have nowhere else to go, apparently. Fuckin’ pigs.)

So other times Mondo was just sleeping on the ground. He got a sleeping bag eventually, and before long got used to sleeping somewhere hard and unsupported, but it never got any less humiliating. After dropping out of high school, Mondo didn’t really have anything to stick around in one place for. It wasn’t like he made a fuck ton of friends while he was homeless. He got to know a solid chunk of the city during that time of his life because he was always too… ashamed, maybe is the right word, to stay in one place.

Mondo nearly loses his grip on a wine glass. (Who the hell would order wine at a place like this? He snorts derisively as he wipes it dry.) No point in reliving all that during his shift. Plenty of time after he gets back to Chihiro’s to pass out on the couch and cry his sorrows away. She’s got an outing with some friends tonight, so nobody’ll be around to note the uhh… unmanliness of crying over a can of beer, or what-have-you.

When six o’clock rolls around and people begin to flood in, Mondo remembers all of a sudden that the bulk of his income from when he was a bartender back at age seventeen came from tips. Drunk people are emotional, but they also feel pretty bad for dumping their mess on some stranger. Mondo would leave work with ten to twenty thousand yen in his pocket every night. Not bad for tip money. But since the only real business comes in during the last two hours of his shift, Mondo’s not really in an ideal position. Shirogane’s wage is fine, it’s just like, not good enough for him to think seriously about moving out from Chihiro’s anytime soon.

(She hasn’t given him a time limit or anything, it’s just like, he hates relying on her so much.)

Damn. Maybe he’d better start thinking about shift changes soon.

Mahiru brushes past him, a key ring swinging from her index finger. “Sorry to run out on you when people start coming in, I’ll be gone for like three seconds,” she says over her shoulder, pausing at the door to the back room. “Just gotta restock something.”

“No sweat,” Mondo tells her. Now that the sound of chatter has filled the place, and there are people sitting at the bar, his instincts from high school (or, y’know, around that time) are starting to kick in again. It’s not so hard to turn his mind off a bit and just listen to people ramble. Anyone who’s getting hammered at six in the evening is having one hell of a rough day. Mondo kind of feels bad for them.

A pretty blonde woman in a dark pink jacket slips inside, and to Mondo’s surprise, steps behind the counter. Before he can ask her a question, like,  _ what are you doing?,  _ Mahiru comes out from the back room and beams.

“Kaede! You’re on the later side,” she remarks brightly. Despite her words, her face is flushed. Mahiru is clearly pleased-- though Mondo isn’t sure whether the cause of this is simple fondness or something a bit more in-depth than that. The blonde woman, Kaede, smiles sheepishly, shrugging off her coat to reveal that she’s wearing a nametag identical to the ones he and Mahiru have. She must work here, Mondo realises. Though if she doesn’t have an exact time that her shift starts, then he has to wonder if she’s actually a bartender, or if she’s in some other position.

“Sorry about that, traffic was terrible,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair. Her eyes pop over to Mondo, a more bright smile appearing on her face. “Oh, you must be the new worker, right?” She extends a hand. “I’m Kaede Akamatsu! I play the piano here,” she gestures at the piano over to the side, and Mondo thinks,  _ yeah, okay, that makes sense.  _ When he takes her hand, he sees that her fingers are long and thin. Agile. Probably good for the piano.

“Mondo Oowada,” he grunts in reply. “And the traffic is still shit?”

“Watch the language!” Mahiru scolds, and Mondo ducks his head (shouldn’t be cussing in front of women he barely knows; not like these two are Chihiro or anything, who cusses like  _ crazy  _ whenever she plays  _ Mario Cart)  _ but Kaede only laughs.

“It’s all good, I’m a big girl, y’know?” She bumps Mahiru’s shoulder with her own and slips over to the piano. “Gimme a shout if you need anything and Mahiru’s busy, Mondo! I’m happy to help!”

Her smile is very pleasant. Mondo decides that he likes Kaede.

Seven comes and goes, people coming in and out. Mondo’s surprised by just how  _ busy  _ it is here; he wasn’t expecting a joint like this to draw in business. But with Kaede playing on the piano, and Mahiru chatting up people behind the counter, the atmosphere is actually… pretty nice. Not a bad place to be on a Monday night. Before he knows it, it’s five minutes past eight, and his shift is set to be over.

Mahiru’s, too. She seems kind of on edge. Her hand drifts towards her pocket, where she presumably keeping her cell phone, more than once. She doesn’t take it out, though, likely because she’s trying to be professional, but Mondo can tell she’s distracted.

  
Two people are supposed to come and relieve them, right? Mondo slides a jug of beer across the counter to a very short man with brown hair, thinking about it. Would it be rude to ask if she’s got something on the mind? They’ve only just met. He’d be lying if he tried to act like he didn’t notice anything, though. Maybe Mahiru would prefer it if he just minded his own business. Mondo drums his fingers on the counter, trying to think.

At a quarter past, Mondo heads into the back room to restock the gin, and as he’s sifting through boxes, the employee entrance door swings open, and in slips a man with a wild mane of red hair, a goatee, and a good amount of piercings. He’s wearing a dark grey jacket, which he shrugs off, looking around, and then meets Mondo’s gaze. His eyes could be blue, but in this lighting they seem more of a grey, like a washed out pavement colour.

“Hey man!” he greets, enthusiastic. Mondo raises an eyebrow. This fucker is late and the place is packed-- there’s no room for a  _ hey man.  _ Mondo figures being open about his irritation would make him an enemy on his first day of work and that’s not the goal, but like. Sheesh. Imagine having that kind of audacity. “You’re the new guy. Sweet. I’m Leon Kuwata, let’s get along.”

Fair enough. Mondo picks up the box that he needs for the refill. “Right, yeah, sure,” he says distractedly. “Mondo Oowada, good to meet you,” he tacks on the last bit as a courtesy, but Leon doesn’t seem to notice, just grins as he pins his nametag to his white shirt. Mondo turns and heads back out to the bar, putting down the crate and locating Mahiru where she’s chatting with a customer. Mondo waits for her to finish her conversation and then leans down to talk to her. “Hey, Leon’s here, why don’t you head out?”   
  


“Huh?” Mahiru frowns, looking down at her watch. “I guess our shift ended twenty minutes ago… oh, but it’s your first night!” She looks unhappy. “I don’t want you to have to work over today, that’d be irresponsible of me…” her hand drifts towards her pocket again, her brow furrowing. She’s clearly conflicted.

Wary of crossing a boundary but also not wanting to be a total dick, Mondo rests a light han don her shoulder. “Look, you’ve been kinda distracted for the past couple hours. Go home and take care of whatever it is that’s got you stressed. I can handle a little overtime. I need the tips, y’know?” He grins to let her know that it’s not a big deal. Mahiru regards him warily for a long moment, eyebrows quirking, but then eventually relaxes into a smile.

“Thanks, Mondo. I owe you one,” she says, nudging him with her elbow, and with that she slips into the back room.

Cool. Mondo moves in the direction of a customer with his index finger raised, placidly takes the dude’s order. No biggie. Whoever the other coworker is, they’re for sure making his shit list for now. But that’s not on Mahiru. (Or even Leon, for that matter, though Mondo’s not convinced yet that the guy isn’t totally irresponsible.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet y'all thought i forgot this story, didn't you??? hahaha you're right
> 
> anyway i'm here again, hi, sorry. mondo is a sweetheart and that's!! just the tea
> 
> also james i'm sorry it's another v3 cameo but you've seen pretty much all there is to see of kaede by now so it should be fine ;^;
> 
> they'll meet next chapter i promise


	5. Taka

Taka parks his car several blocks away from the address of the bar that Aoi texted him and sighs, resting his forehead on the wheel.

Why is he even going through with this? This plays is further south than Taka ever goes ordinarily. Not that he’s ever in the habit of judging low-income or homeless people who inhabit the areas like these; it’s the gang activity that puts him on his edge. With the Yakuza, Taka can rest easy knowing that he’s never pissed off anybody in his life. Gangs… there’s no assurance that he won’t get mugged in a place like this. What if his car gets stolen?  _ Why would Aoi think going to a bar like this is a good idea? _

The karaoke bar that Makoto and his friends frequent is nice enough. And close enough to all of their homes that they actually have hope of getting back at a decent time tomorrow. Taka looks mournfully at his wrist watch. Getting closer to nine o’clock now. At least he was able to charge his phone at work, or else he’d be stranded out here in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the litter and needles in the cracks in the sidewalk to keep him company.

He’s sorely tempted to start his engine again and turn around to go home, but… well, he told Aoi that he’d come. Perhaps he can step in for a few minutes, drink a soda maybe (though Taka really doesn’t like soda, he thinks it’s somewhat indecent to order water at a bar and it’s much too late in the evening for coffee) and then go home to where he’ll be safe. Also, never make a promise to do something like this ever again. Taka is sorely regretting the fact that he is a high-integrity person who makes a point of keeping all his promises. If he was just a little bit unreliable, he could back out of this.

Well, he doesn’t really want  _ that.  _ His reliability is something he prides himself on. But he really wishes he could have Agatha Christie to keep him company right now, and not some seedy bar in Southern Tokyo.

With a sigh, Taka steps out of his car and walks over to the bar. It’s larger than it appeared to be in its image on Google Maps. Run-down for sure, but unnoticeable. If Taka had a place to be, he’d probably walk right past it without thinking. There’s a sign above his head flashing blue. It must’ve said  _ Shirogane’s  _ at one point, but several of the lights have gone out, so now the sign reads  _ Sh r n ’s,  _ with the missing letters blacked out in the gaps. He manages a tight smile at the sight of it and steps inside. No bell rings upon his entrance.

He chances a peek at his watch. Just past nine, not even to five minutes yet. Aoi and Toko are to be here at a quarter past.

The bar is noisy, the smell of alcohol and general human stink permeating Taka’s senses. Back in high school, he was prone to sensory overload, but right now he just wrinkles his nose, then squashes the expression before anybody can notice and get offended. Underneath the sound of chatter, of laughter and wailing (typical of bars), there is a pleasant sound, a piano playing. When Taka looks over towards it, he sees that there is a piano in the corner, a blonde woman seated in front of it. Perhaps she senses his gaze on her, because she glances over her shoulder. Taka notices that she wears a nametag, but not what it says. At any rate, she smiles before looking back at the piano.

That’s alright, at least, the music. Taka was expecting some kind of god-awful hip hop song to be playing over the speakers. He finds a spot at the bar with several empty seats around it, near the window, and also further away from all the chatter. The stools are worn leather, but when he sits, he finds that it’s actually decently comfortable.

There are two men working behind the counter. The one further from him has flaming red hair and moves dramatically, spreading his arms as he tells a couple laughing women a story about… something. When an older man beckons to him, he excuses himself with a wink and moves over to serve. He has the typical energy of a bartender. Taka recognises the kanjis in his given name to say  _ Leon. _

The bartender standing closer to him is distracted, cleaning up a spill from a broken bottle on the floor. The liquid is a deep reddish purple; wine, most likely. At this distance, Taka can smell the fermented grapes. He’s always enjoyed wine, though again, being a lightweight and paranoid about overdosing, he doesn’t usually drink the stuff. He had a glass at his uncle’s wedding about a year ago, but other than that, he’s mostly kept away from alcohol as a rule.

_ Anyway--  _ when the worker straightens up, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and balancing a dustpan precariously in his other, Taka thinks,  _ oh, he’s tall.  _ He is quite tall, in fact. His hair is styled strangely; the hair in the back of his head is brown, brushing the space just beneath his jaw, but on top of his head it’s almost blonde, extending from his face in a large… well, perhaps  _ pompadour  _ would be the word here, though Taka’s rarely seen such a hairstyle. It’s dramatic. As he empties the glass pieces into a garbage can, Taka catches a glimpse of his nametag.

Mondo. The first kanji in his given name is used in the word  _ coat of arms.  _ Fancy. And his eyes are a pale, almost clear shade of purple.

“Oh,” the bartender (Mondo) raises his eyebrows. “Sorry, dude, I didn’t see you coming in.” His manner of speaking is casual. Taka feels as though he’s being addressed by an aquaintance from his workplace, or perhaps someone who shares a mutual friend, rather than a perfect stranger. Mondo smiles sheepishly.

  
“No need to worry,” Taka dismisses, waving a hand. “I’m waiting for a friend, so I’m in no hurry to order right now. I think you have bigger priorities, anyway,” he adds, gesturing to the spill. Mondo looks down at it, as though having forgotten, and then offers another smile before disappearing into the back room. He reemerges a moment later with a mop.

The pianist begins playing a classical piece, one that Taka has heard before but doesn’t remember the name of. It’s reminiscent of a lullaby. Very familiar. It’s almost infuriating that he can’t remember it. Taka drums his fingers on the bar as he listens to it. He used to know how to play the piano, but he was never very good at it. He worked very hard while he was learning, but his fingers simply couldn’t pick it up. It was one of those moments where he assumed natural talent would have worked better than mere hard work. The thought makes him sad, which is no way to be during an outing with friends. He hasn’t been out this late in… well, ever, perhaps. Maybe he should go home.

“Kiyotaka!” Aoi’s voice yells. Taka silently curses the lack of a bell and turns around. When he meets Aoi’s blue eyes, he feels a natural smile spreading across his face. She brings those on without trying. Toko walks behind her, her arms drawn in towards her body, a glower on her face. Taka sympathises. She probably thinks even less of this establishment than he does. “Jeez, what are you, some kind of hermit? Sitting on the very edge?”

“I’m not on the very edge,” Taka says indignantly. “There are many seats on my right.”

There are two seats on his right. Aoi smiles wryly in his direction.

“Anyway,” he adds hastily. “You’re late.” He gestures at his watch. Twenty minutes past. “I hope you didn’t have the bad sense to go on the highway after this morning.” After agreeing to come to this bar, Taka spent the rest of his lunch break reading the news about the accident. Some awful thing just north of here. Terrible.

“I did, actually,” Aoi sighs, dropping into the seat on his left. Toko sits on her other side. “I should read the news like you do, be more diligent.”

Taka smiles. “Well, I think you have a bit of an excuse, as you were likely too busy working to waste your time reading articles.”

“Boo! Don’t you ever procrastinate?” Aoi pouts.

“No.”   
  


“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Aoi sighs, resting her elbows on the desk. “You have too much integrity, Kiyotaka. You’ve gotta live a little! My life needs way more excitement. Maybe I’ll go do a crime.”

Just as Taka opens his mouth to tell Aoi that she should absolutely not do that, the bartender from before appears in front of them, smiling. His hands are resting on the counter before him. “Thanks for waiting,” he says to Taka. Taka offers a smile of his own, shooting Aoi a look to let her know that they’ll most definitely be having this conversation later. “What can I get for you guys?”

“S-Scotch and water, please,” Toko requests. “I for one d-don’t plan on getting c-completely wasted tonight,” she gives Aoi a hard look. Mondo chuckles as he pulls a glass from beneath the counter, starting to prepare the drink, and looks expectantly at the other two of them.

“Get me something strong!” Aoi says enthusiastically. If Mondo thinks this request is unwise, or feels it’s out of place, he doesn’t comment, only nods. This makes Taka just a bit worried, but he tries not to think about it. At the end of the day, Aoi is an adult and can make her own decisions. He can advise but he shouldn’t police. It’s not his place. And they don’t know each other well enough for him to have much of a role in her life.

“Just a sprite, please,” Taka tells Mondo.

  
“Designated driver?” Mondo asks with a grin. Taka averts his gaze, but smiles regardless. He hears Mondo chuckling as he slides the glass over to Toko.

(He’s got a nice chuckle. Rich and low. Taka clears the thoughts from his brain. Neato.)

“You’re so boring,” Aoi groans, rolling her eyes. “A sprite? You came to a bar to get a sprite?”

“I’d rather have an earl grey tea,” Taka bites back, trying not to smile and kill his point. Aoi’s heckling is, admittedly, endearing after a while. Perhaps the lack of real animosity in her gaze makes it easier to deal with. “Soda is too sugary.”

“We can do tea,” Mondo pipes. “Uh, I think-- first day on the job, y’know? Don’t see why they wouldn’t, though.” He leans back and calls over his shoulder, “Hey, Leon, do we do tea here?”

“If you wanna brew it,” Leon calls back, shrugging.

“Want that instead?” Mondo asks. Taka, taken aback at the offer, blinks. Huh. It’s not that he  _ doesn’t  _ want tea, he’s just surprised that…

Well, alright. Taka smiles. “Sure, that would be nice.” He’d better leave this bartender a big tip, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anotha one
> 
> also the last one for tonight since i wanna work on other things
> 
> but anyway they've,, met. they're vibing. cool cool cool cool cool

**Author's Note:**

> taka is fun to write but i'm extremely rusty with the thh cast so Bear With Me owo
> 
> updates are gonna happen when i can write them so you're just going to have to see what happens akhsdf


End file.
